Trench Coats & Leather Gloves
by twilighteyes72
Summary: Sherlock is hiding something, John is determined to find out what it is. Using whatever means possible. Smut ensues. rated M for later chapters  because its AWESOME & such
1. Chapter 1

"John."

"Hmm?"

John glanced up from the morning's paper. Sherlock was residing on the couch, fingers steepled under his chin. John had come to realize that this particular pose was common for Sherlock, usually indicating he was deep in thought. Apparently he was always deep in thought.

"How do you suppose the best way to kill a man would be?"

"WHAT? Sherlock, you can't possibly be thinking of-"

"John," he calmly interrupted, "I'm not going to kill anyone." He detected a trace of annoyance in Sherlock's tone. "I was simply asking your opinion."

"Uh, Sherlock..." John was honestly surprised that Sherlock would want an opinion, let alone ask of it himself. But then again, John thought, there were those few instances where he seemed to actually value what he had to say. So he thought carefully before he answered. "Well, I always find the most interesting crimes to be ones where it's seemingly impossible for the murder to be committed."

"Yes, those are interesting, as you say, but that's hardly a strategy."

"A strategy," John scoffed. "I suppose you have one all thought out already?"

"Several," he added, in an off-hand sort of way.

Of course, John thought bemusedly to himself. Why wouldn't the world's most clever detective and sociopath not have several murder scenarios already planned out? It would be almost blasphemous not to.

"So... just to be clarify... you're not planning on killing anyone?"

By now there was a small smile forming on Sherlock's lips, bemusement twinkling in his eyes. "Not at the very moment, no."

"Glad to hear it." John then went back to his paper smiling, and Sherlock to his deep thoughts.

He wasn't ever really reading when Sherlock was in the same room as him. How could he concentrate, with such a brilliant, attractive man was sitting hardly 5 feet away from him? Instead, John shoot looks of longing over his paper, raking up and down Sherlock's lithe form, wether he was bent over his latest science experiment or stretched out on the couch as he was now, eyes closed and fingers interlocked. He had to say, this pose was by far his favorite, when he could openly stare at Sherlock without him noticing. As he was doing now.

It was rather a sudden thing, this attraction he felt. Indeed, when John first set eyes on Sherlock, in the science lab, a rush of lust had caught him completely off guard. Not once had he felt that particular emotion at first sight.

It was peculiar, the most attractive thing about him wasn't his ivory skin, or the artfully shaped face. It wasn't his lithe body, or even how distinguished he looked in his dramatic trench coat, although those things did help it along. It was more the mannerisms he had. The way Sherlock held himself, the way he tilted his head just so, and the way an interesting murder would ignite a sort of spark in his eyes. It was his boy-like excitement when he figured out a particularly tricky bit of the case, and the the smile that would start out small, but gradually spread into a full fledged grin. And oh, how John loved when that smile was directed at him.

It was silly, really, how getting a chuckle out of Sherlock easily made John's day. How even the most insignificant touch on the shoulder or brush against his leg could send a shiver through his body. He had an almost schoolboy obsession with his flatmate, and he tried as hard as he possibly could to hide this fact.

As one might imagine, it's a little bit difficult hiding anything from "the world's only consulting detective". But their relationship depended on it. John was sure Sherlock didn't feel the same way - how could he? As a sociopath, John wasn't sure Sherlock could even identify love if it sat right down on his lap.

Although... John thought a bit. A sociopath might not be able to feel emotions, or not very deeply. Kindness, compassion, love? None of those depended on concrete science, and although Sherlock could imitate of few of them quite well, there was always something slightly lacking in his performances for his clients, something not quite right.

But lust? It was far more physical than anything else. And, after all, Sherlock was a man. John was pretty sure at least. He couldn't be immune to it. And surely, he had to have cravings. Right?

By now John had put down the paper, completely lost in thought. So he was startled when Sherlock suddenly leaped off the couch, the bright glimmer in his eyes again.

"Sherlock?" John eyed him warily.

"I'm just off to the grocer's, John, I won't be long. I noticed we're out of milk."

John stared at him curiously, then incredulously, "You, the great Sherlock Holmes, are voluntarily wasting precious intellectual power on groceries? What, have all the criminals up and left the city?"

"Hardly. But no criminal at the moment is interesting enough to captivate my attention. As I said, I'll be back soon."

Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf and bounded out the door. John heard the light tread of his footsteps down the stairs, and then quiet. Quite odd.

Then John heard, "On second thought... I may be a while. It depends on any number of possible circumstances. Don't wait up!" And the door slammed closed.

What can Sherlock possibly be up to now?


	2. Author's Note

AN: I probably should've started with this, uhm... Well, anyway, I would just like to warn you that I most likely won't continue with this story, I'm kind of awful like that. See, I have absolutely no patience, and while I enjoy writing, I hardly ever finish a thing. Oh, also, I'd like to say that I am deeply sorry for you all getting a notification, when there's not an actual _chapter _(haha, if I were you, I would be incredibly angry too). Uhm, so yeah, I'm not saying I _definitely_ will or won't continue with this, so... basically, just a fair warning. Yeah, yeah, I know - I'm awful. Such is life. :p


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: So... How do you feel about short chapters? *winces* Well, at least I updated it right? ...Right? XD lol, and don't worry, this story IS going somewhere. Really. For a while there I wasn't sure how to continue it, but I've got a vague idea now. SUSPENSE. Also reviews? Reviews are nice.

"Sherlock," John gasped, as the other man pressed his body up against the wall. "Sherlock, what-" But John never could finish his sentence before he was silenced by lips pressed hard against his own.

He responded immediately, forgetting his shock as his arms wrapped around Sherlock and brought him closer, trying to eliminate all space between them. John could feel Sherlock's arousal pressed against his stomach, sending jolt through his entire body. He heard Sherlock's breath hitch as he carefully untucked his shirt and slid a hand up to brush against his nipple.

"John..."

His name was just barely a moan, more of a breathy sigh really, but it very effectively turned him on. To have dominance over a man who flaunted his intelligence periodically was really quite a heady feeling. John pulled away just slightly, enough so he could see Sherlock's pupils blown wide with arousal, a slight flush spreading across his face.

"Sherlock, tell me what you want."

Sherlock whimpered. The noise went straight to John's groin, and he had to bite his lip to keep from groaning out loud.

"Tell me what you want Sherlock."

"John. John, wake up."

He shot up, taking on a defensive position. His gaze immediately fell upon a pair of grey blue ones, much closer than he had anticipated. He sucked in a quick breath, and tried to keep all emotion out of his face.

"H-hello, Sherlock. Back so soon?"

Sherlock looked back at John confusedly.

"No, not soon at all John - it's been 4 hours since I left the flat... And you've been asleep this whole time."

"Erm... maybe."

Sherlock gave him a look. He never did seem to understand it when people willingly slept for more than half an hour.

"I heard you muttering in your sleep, I thought you were having another nightmare."

He actually looked concerned for once. John almost did a double take. Then he smiled dryly.

"Quite the opposite, actually, but that's... that was nice of you, really."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up, and he leaned back, possibly realizing that he was still rather too close for a normal conversation.

"I wasn't trying to be nice John, what an incredibly boring motivation. I was simply ensuring that you wouldn't be tired tomorrow morning, we can't have you being any less attentive than you already are."

"Of course." John rubbed his eyes, then shifted awkwardly on the couch. The dream he had wasn't getting any less vivid, and he was uncomfortably aware of the lower regions of his body.

In an attempt to divert Sherlock's sharp eyes from himself, John asked, "So what were you doing out four hours? The lines that long?"

By then Sherlock had gotten up from his rather awkward position on the floor, and had taken a seat on the chair John usually resided in. He had his laptop out even while talking to John, but John was used to it - there were many words to describe Sherlock (beautiful, graceful, ethereal were just a few that came to John's mind), "polite" was not one of them. Unless of course he was trying to get information.

But when John questioned him, he looked up quickly from the screen with a look that John hadn't seen on his face before. Because of this, he had a hard time placing it, it was so odd. But... yes, he was fairly certain he had seen panic. As soon as it was there it was gone though, replaced once more by blank indifference.

After a pause, he answered, expressionless, "for a case." He then turned back to his laptop, slender fingers flying across the keys. Obviously, he wasn't going to elaborate any further.

John sighed, then checked one more time to ensure Sherlock's attention was directed elsewhere before hurriedly getting up and retreating to his room, resolving to find out just what Sherlock was so keen to hide from him.


End file.
